“You craven, lying cur!” thundered Annesley. “Lady Elaine under your protection--the sweetest, truest woman that ever lived! You slander her, and I will choke the words in your lying throat! I have just parted from Lady Elaine--I admit it. I also admit that I love her still, and shall ever love her. We drifted apart through misunderstandings created by serpents of your stamp, and though there is a legal bar between us, I shall watch over the woman I love with a never-relaxing vigilance, and an arm ever ready to avenge!” He opened the door, adding, “Stimson, see this creature to the street.” The viscount tried to smile bravely, but it was only a ghastly grin. He never knew how he descended the broad stairs, but he found himself being advised to “Move on!” by a burly policeman, who had no sympathy with his savage gesticulations. “I have a double reason now for remaining in London,” Annesley reflected, as he paced the floor in fierce agitation. “I must see Mr. Worboys to-morrow, and Lady Elaine must be placed under his protection. Oh, the coward!--the mean, pitiful coward! What a pleasure it would have been to lash him until he screamed for mercy!” He returned to the room wherein he had left Lady Annesley, but he was too agitated to notice her ashen face, or the fire that shone in her dusky eyes. “It was not the detective,” he said, “but a man whom I detest. He will not visit me again. Excuse me for a short time, Theresa; I have letters to write--important letters.” He went away, and she murmured: “Who am I that I should stand between my husband and all that he loves best? Who am I that I should place him under the evil ban of the vendetta? If I did not love him beyond all other things I should not care so much, but my love is so great that it is all-sacrificing.” She stared into the fire, the words she had overheard booming in her ears like the knell of fast-advancing doom: “I have just parted from Lady Elaine. * * * I love her still, and shall ever love her * * * though there is a legal bar between us, I shall ever watch over the woman I love!” “What is my duty?” thought poor Theresa, a resolute light in her mournful eyes. “My duty is to make my darling happy. Oh, the burden of my misery is greater than I can bear!” For the first time in many days she thought of the Romaic love song that had once haunted her so persistently, but, oh! how significant it seemed now! Ah, Love was never yet without The pang, the agony, the doubt, Which rends my heart with ceaseless sigh, While day and night roll darkling by. Without one friend to bear my woe, I faint, I die, beneath the blow; That Love had arrows well I knew; Alas! I find them poisoned, too. Birds yet in freedom shun the net Which Love around your haunts hath set; Or, circled by his fatal fire, Your hearts shall burn, your hopes expire.